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There’s some PP, Sara-joe; let me know if you want it changed~ And I hope you don’t mind me skipping you, Shae, but since this will be it for Ril’o, I just wanted to get it in, ^=^ And I’ll bring Cwmfen in soon?
This thing was weak, inexperienced. And it was this that Dahlia placed upon the boarders? The pied brute laughed his mockery in the silence of his mind, that mirthless sound echoing in those tenebrous corridors. His focus was upon this insolent thing, no longer upon the pup. The pup was insignificant in his plans, existing only to witness what was to come. And it would come to pass—there was no doubt in that terrible mind about that. And perhaps it was this doubtless mind that made such things occur, that made the inevitable. He knew that his jaws could kill, that his body could overcome another. He was not weakened in a fight by wounds—he was impervious to their efforts to cause him pain and death. He was above them, his mind able to let go, to gain control of his body. And it was with this control that he ruled, that he rose above these wretched things. The pup would see—the time had come.
The lighter male fell easily to his body’s oncoming contact, forcing it to emit that sound. The other was quick, but he was quicker. He caught the thing by the hips, bringing his weight down upon him with a sickening crunch, those black talons ripping into the flesh that simply parted to his will. The frantic attacks made by the thing’s teeth were met by his own jaws, and though he did receive superficial scratches, they were nothing compared to what he would do. He felt the flesh of its neck within his mouth as he clamped down, but foolishly his victim jerked away, ripping itself, allowing its blood to spurt into the cold, watching air. As the final command pushed from the lighter male’s throat, the pied brute’s jaws parted, then closed again with unmatched ease about the upper neck. The strength of his jaws destroyed the neck beneath the jaw and ear, crushing it, tearing it. The blood flowed into his mouth, bitter with weakness. And for this weakness, the thing now would die, slowly, with death and pain cruelly ravaging his mind and body.
Those cruel jaws parted, allowing the dying thing to fall from him. “Worthless,” that tenor voice mocked, his sanguine jaws dripping with a venom. The black orbs flickered with something near to content—but then it had passed from those pools and was still. It was suffering there beneath him—he had the power to end that suffering, to be merciful. But such an end did not belong to this Dahlian thing. The pied brute exhaled sharply, a sneering, mocking sound. Worthless. The brute shifted, stepping over that carcass, leaving it to suffer there until Death would finally come. And the pied brute simply strode away, his movements unhurried and fluid, passing like a wraith from that scene. Briefly, the brute turned back, those black eyes falling upon the pup, piercing it with the blank intensity. He sneered. And then he was gone, a passing shadow of a cloud gone in silence and with frustrating ease.